


Birds of a Feather

by lin_the_bae_fong



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beaujester Week, Beaujester Week 2019, Day 2: Parallels, F/F, Implied Child Abuse, implied child abuse by spell use, tw: child abuse, tw: implied child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lin_the_bae_fong/pseuds/lin_the_bae_fong
Summary: Two kids raised to be lonely in two very different homes, and yet they were almost so similar.





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> “And by the cool stream the breeze murmurs through apple branches and slumber pours down from quivering leaves” -Sappho
> 
> TW: Implied Child Abuse via Magical Means  
> Beau's dad is a right fuckin' bastard.

Beauregard Lionett is 8 years old the first time she ‘runs away from home’, although this makes it sound far more dramatic and adventurous than it actually is. She manages to escape just beyond the vineyards, sneaking this way and that past the harvesters. They’re too enthralled in their work to really notice the small girl anyway. It’s late afternoon, dinner will probably be called soon, but Beau doesn’t care. Her dad got mad at her for playing with her breakfast, so she probably won’t even get a full dinner anyway.

No, Beau is more interested in the massive, towering tree at the edge of the Lionett estate. She’s been scoping it out for about a week, testing it’s climbability. She’s too short to climb any other trees on the estate, but this one, _oh this one_ , has a massive, easily climbable boulder that leads straight up to the lowest branch. Beau scrambles up the rock, not minding the scrape on her bare palms or knobby knees. 

She has to hop a little to reach the branch but even at her young age, Beau is agile. Though she wouldn’t admit she likely learned it from the dance classes her parents have been forcing her to take since she could walk. Beau wobbles a little as she perches on the branch. 

She takes a steadying breath, looks up with a toothy grin, and begins to climb. 

It’s a slow going process. Beau is a smart kid, and she knows what she’s doing is probably not the safest thing in the world. So, she takes the branches one at a time, testing their strength and making sure the wood isn’t rotted, before continuing her ascent. 

Beau’s only half way up the tree when she feels herself starting to get winded. She gives the branch she’s on a little wiggle, and satisfied with it’s stability, sits to catch her breath. From here, she can see the entirety of the Lionett Estate and Vineyard. Her family’s mansion seems so small from here, and for a moment, the pressure placed upon her shoulders shrinks with it. 

There’s a rustle of leaves as a cool breeze shakes the bough ever so slightly, and Beau closes her eyes and leans her head against the tree’s rough trunk. It scrapes a little, but she doesn’t mind it.

Beau sits like that for almost thirty minutes, sipping from a waterskin and enjoying the view, when she hears a woman’s voice in the distance.

“ _BEAUREGARD LIONETT, YOU COME HOME THIS INSTANCE! I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE!_ ” 

Beau frowns at the general direction of her mother. She can’t really see her with the brightness of the setting sun, but she also doesn’t really care, either. She returns her waterskin to her belt and once again returns to her climb. She gets only ten or fifteen feet higher before she hears another voice, much closer. 

“ _BEAUREGARD._ **_NOW._ **” 

Beau flinches at the sound of her father’s booming voice. Hard enough she feels her feet slip out from beneath her, and suddenly she’s falling. 

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately, depending on how you frame it), the bough of the tree is certainly not lacking in branches to catch her fall. However, no amount of dance lessons could prepare her for this scenario without injury, and Beau finds herself wheezing as a particularly thick branch catches her by the ribs. She pulls herself up with shaking hands and tears stream down her face. Faintly, past the sharp pain from every inhalation, Beau is aware of the sound of flapping wings and squawking birds, and _oh gods above_ how she wished she could be one of them. 

“You INSOLENT child! Get down from their this instant or so fucking help me-!”

Beau’s father was under the tree now, and she could see the red of his face contrasting with plush green of the grass he’d trampled upon on his way over. She felt cold sweat break out over her skin like creeping claws of fear, those claws reaching into her chest and _squeezing_. Her heart rate spikes as she watches her father pull a familiar component from his pocket.

“ **Now.** ” 

Beau’s fear melts away as she slowly, carefully, climbs down from the tree. After all, why would she defy her own father?

X-x-X

Far South, past the Cyrious Mountains, Jester Lavorre is only 7 years old the first time she manages to wander off on her own in Nicodranas. Mama had said, albeit apprehensively, that she could go into town with Blude (and of course that the Traveler could go too!). They’re on the outskirts of town picking up some supplies for her mama when Jester sees that familiar cloak of green rounding a corner, her best friend’s laughter echoing in the distance. Blude seems pretty occupied with this shopkeeper. He probably won’t notice if she just...slips away for a few minutes. 

So she does as she always has, and follows The Traveler. Every corner she turns she sees that flash of green and laughter turning around another one, until the buildings start to thin out and eventually are gone altogether and give way to thick jungle. Jester gasps at the beauty of it all. 

From her bedroom window, she’s always been able to see just the outskirts of wilderness, but it doesn’t even remotely compare to seeing its colorful foliage up close. It’s spring-time, and thick-petaled, rubbery flowers bloom along the verdant lines of various vines and bushes. There’s just so much _green_.

So much, actually, she’s lost track of where The Traveler had gone. 

“Heeeyyy! Travelerrrrr! Where did you go?!” She yells through cupped hands, and amplifies with Thaumaturgy just like her mama taught her. She realizes a moment later, through the squawking of startled birds, that it was probably a silly thing to do. She knows The Traveler is always listening. 

“Up here!” The boy replies, waving from where he’s perched in a big, vine tangled tree. 

“Aw man, how did you get up there?!” Jester puts her hands on her hips as she yells back. The boy chuckles.

“By climbing, of course. Come on, I know you can do it, too. Join me.” The boy’s grin is the epitome of mischief. Jester walks to the tree and sizes it up. The vines are low, as are the first branches. She looks back at The Traveler and raises an eyebrow. 

“You really think I can do it, huh?” She asks.

“Without a doubt.”

Jester takes a big breath and holds it for a moment, then exhales slowly. With a confident nod, she reaches for the vines at starts her climb. 

The Traveler is right, of course. It’s a lot easier than Jester’s expecting, and she’s got a lot of experience climbing stuff from playing with Blude. She does slip at one point, but The Traveler catches her and sets her back on the path. After some time and a fair amount of exertion, Jester finds herself sitting on one of the highest branches, tail wrapped around it for stability.

“Isn’t the view beautiful?” The Traveler asks as they stare past the outskirts of Nicodranas, toward the glimmering sunlight bouncing off the Lucidian Ocean. Jester sighs dreamily with her chin in her palm.

“It sure is.”

“Someday you will see even more beautiful things, I assure it.”

They sit in silence for a time, watching as the sun begins to set past the horizon line before The Traveler speaks.

“It’s best we get you back to your mother, I think. Wouldn’t want her to worry too much, yes?”

Jester sighs but agrees, beginning her slow descent down the green jungle tree. The Traveler guides her by the hand back to The Lavish Chateau without issue. _Directons are probably unnecessary for a God,_ the young Jester thinks. The Traveler leads her through alleyways into the reach the back entrance of her home, and motions for Jester to knock.

Jester does as instructed with a small smile, and as one of the kitchen staff opens the door, Jester can immediately tell something is off. The cook opens the door wider and ushers her inside quickly.

“Blude! Blude, she’s here!” They yell loudly past the kitchens and down the hall, and Jester winces. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have just run off like that, maybe.

There’s a loud snort and heavy hoof falls as the large minotaur practically charges into the kitchen, and at the sight of Jester sheepishly looking up at him, he visibly sags in relief. 

“You gave me- your mother a heart attack, Little One. Come now, let’s show her you’re alright. She’s cleared her schedule.” Blude scoops her up in his large arms and gives her a gentle squeeze. 

“Little One, why are you covered in twigs?”

X-x-X

It’s been some time since Beau and Jester had their respective first taste of freedom. They find themselves in Xhorhas, a place that neither thought they’d be in their lifetimes. The Wildmother’s _massive_ tree in the middle of The Barbed Fields is probably one of the biggest structures either has ever seen, natural or otherwise.

Naturally, they have to climb it. Beau was pretty graceful as a kid, but that knobby kneed, depressed 8 year old doesn’t have shit on her now. She takes a running start toward the base of the tree and uses her momentum to _keep going_ up, up, up, using branches as footholds and slingshots and handholds, until it’s less than a minute later and she’s 300 feet in the air, sitting on a branch and kicking her feet lazily. She watches as Jester and Fjord are starting their own slow going ascent. She panics for a second as she watches Jester slip, but Caleb catches her with a feather fall and- oh okay, guess Fjord’s diving after her and destroying a holy tree with his loud as shit teleports. It cuts down the time though, and Beau leans down to help them up on the branch. Jester’s hand lingers in Beau’s grasp and gives a small squeeze of excitement. 

They all take a moment to breath and observe. It’s early morning, and there’s a slight chill in the air the sun hasn’t had a chance to burn off yet. The view isn’t super spectacular, because, well, _Xhorhas_. 

But Beau has that familiar feeling, of everything looking so small that her problems shrink with it. Oh, how she wishes she could be a bird-

There’s annoying squawk and a familiar Goblin-y screech behind her as Giant Eagle Caleb speeds straight up past them, and she makes a mental note to smack him later for ruining the moment. 

Jester’s giggling though, so that has to at least count for something, right?

X-x-X

The climb up there had been scary as shit, for sure, but Jester has to admit that the view is worth it. What is life without a little risk, after all? She and Beau and Fjord have moved a little higher, around the other side of the tree (avoiding the massive fucking Roc nest) and are looking into the distance for any sign of Baxozzan. It’s tiny, wayyyyy in the distance, but it’s there. Jester looks at Beau, at how relaxed she looks up this high, at the easy smile on her face. 

She pulls out her sketchbook and charcoal and starts drawing; the hard line of her jaw, the shell of her ear, the curved slope of her nose...those piercing blue eyes. Her smile.

Jester feels her heart racing in her chest like a hummingbird’s wings as she catches herself staring just a minute too long. She distracts herself by doing a quick, crude doodle of Fjord yelling “Eldreeitch Blaaaahst!” on the opposite page.She peeks up from her book, and feels her breath hitch.

Beau is staring at her. 

That easy, relaxed smile is directed at her now, and Jester wonders for a moment if she’s going into cardiac arrest with how fast her heart is beating. She catches Beau’s eyes, but there’s no sudden realization of being caught, no uncertainty, just pure adoration. Jester feels her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t try to hide it. 

She returns the smile, maybe just a little bashful, and flips to the next blank page in her sketchbook. Jester glances up one more time, and Beau’s smile grows just a little before she turns to resume her conversation with Fjord.

With that look burned to memory, Jester sets her charcoal to the page. 


End file.
